[hirata isao]

isao, on the other hand, was no slave to shame. if anything, this would serve as an effective lesson to masahiko to not use that technique so blindly, before having considered the consequences.

to his part, isao had certainly forsaken a good deal of sense in allowing it to go off. what was one more victory over hiko? he would've chuckled if he was able to move voluntarily, failing to consider their more or less even history of back and forths. this technique in particular was nasty though and isao made a point to commit those hand gestures to memory.

he wasn't nearly as aware of the change from hot to cool, or vice versa, as he'd been sweating during the fight and being in this heap, a good hiko's depth worth away from the snow, he didn't feel much warmer. in all honesty, he didn't feel much at all. they must look a sight. good thing neither of their students were here to see this display.

after a good few minutes isao began to feel a tingling in his fingers. 'it must be wearing off finally.' and then it was all at once like the inverse of your limb falling asleep. in one moment he was aware of a sea of needle pricks all over him, the blood rushing through all his limbs, and then it was gone. with a steady tremble he placed himself, found his balance on two arms and pushed himself up off the ground.

he immediately backed off, stumbling a bit in the wake of masahiko's paralysis technique, expecting some spiteful follow up. "that's some technique." he eyed his opponent suspiciously, unaware payback had already been dealt.

regardless, the fight was over and isao claimed himself the victor. they could go again but it would take a bit for isao to regain his bearings as he made his way back to his sword.

318 words | nue masahiko

[nue masahiko]

FEAR IS THE MIND-KILLER

About ninety seconds past the point of moderate to severe discomfort, Isao stirred, feeling apparently seeping back into his limbs. As soon as he was steady enough to move, Isao hauled himself off Hiko, giving him a suspicious look that made Hiko feel just a tiny bit satisfied. Sure, he lost, and by a wide margin, but... No, he just lost. Not much else to say. Hiko heaved a deep breath as he pulled himself into a sitting position, now resigned to the cold and damp of his spot on the snowy ground. He rested his forearms on his splayed knees as he watched Isao go to retrieve his sword--always with the sword first, that one, like it was his wife or child or something--and idly pushed his hair away from his face. It was an inelegant position, but Masahiko always felt a little inelegant around Isao, like he was sandpaper against Hiko's smooth veneer. "I picked up a few tricks before I dropped out of medcorps," he said lightly. He was aiming for casual, nonchalant, and instead landed firmly in the territory of 'pleased Isao noticed and trying very hard to pretend otherwise'. Familiar grounds, unfortunately. "I need to work on it more, but there's a lot of potential for application of medical ninjutsu in combat scenarios." And here he was at a crossroads. It would be a simple thing to part ways here, to go to their respective homes to bathe and rest and do whatever filled the negative space between days. It seemed natural, appropriate. Yet Hiko couldn't do it. Instead he sat there in the snow, getting colder with every passing moment, and waited for Isao to make the call.

hirata isao -- 284

LAIKA OF THQ

[hirata isao]

the steel had grown cold in its owner's absence as isao circled his fingers around his sword's hilt. with a soft grunt he pried it free of its home in the snow and earth before swinging it up and around his form to rest square on his back. it was a fluid motion, one that he'd repeated as often as he'd taken breath it felt.

without turning to him, isao addressed his old friend. "you're going to make a formidable team lead, masahiko." his words were accompanied by a soft smile, of acknowledgement and a soft admiration, though unfortunately unable to be seen by the person to which it was owed. "and your genin are going to appreciate your skill in medical ninjutsu." his words trailed aimlessly, the beginning of a tangent forming behind isao's lips, ready to go on for hours like an old man.

but he stopped himself. he genuinely was proud of hiko, who had long held the position of isao's inferior, at least as far as battle was concerned. their spar was closer than any had ever been and, in truth, it was by a hair that isao came out on top. if he hadn't landed the counter hit he would be face down in the snow, immobile and subject to any number of follow up strikes.

and that was just combat. the areas where hiko had already been superior to isao and now only continued to widen their distance were in no small number. he envied the younger man's medical prowess, something invaluable on the battlefield, and the small collection of illusory techniques isao had picked up were just a fool's attempt to emulate hiko's proficiency in sly manuevers. as it turned out nothing had changed. while isao was a mercenary, a warrior trained in martial combat and battlefield tactics; masahiko was a shinobi.

he turned to the man resting in the snow and shared his smile with him. behind it lingered envy and a feeling of inadequacy. isao still had a long way to go.

"let's get something to eat."

>THREAD COMPLETE<

346 words | nue masahiko